


Shall I Be Mother?

by TheDVirus



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Brainwashing, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Past Brainwashing, Unresolved Romantic Tension, elijah wants to play matchmaker, nice!wald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 10:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15604722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDVirus/pseuds/TheDVirus
Summary: Ed visits the Van Dahl Mansion for tea to see Oswald after banishing him from his apartment.'Shall I be Mother'? : An antiquated idiom which translates to 'shall I pour the tea?'





	Shall I Be Mother?

**Author's Note:**

> bepis-birb said:  
> What if Ed came looking for Oswald after he turned him away aka how about a fic where Elijah mistakes Ed for Os' boyfriend and Nice!wald is so naive and sweet he's playing right into it.

‘Ed! You came!’ 

Oswald beamed as he embraced Ed tightly. Ed allowed it, patting Oswald’s back companionably.

‘Hello Oswald’, Ed said, even though the person in front of him seemed a poor imitation of The Penguin he had known.

Whilst his clothes were expensive as always, Oswald was dressed in drab shades and his hair, whilst clean was limp and combed so extensively it seemed plastered to his head. Worst of all was Oswald’s smile: it seemed almost painted on and did not quite reach his eyes despite his apparently genuine tone. It reminded Ed of the kind of smile someone wore after accidentally hitting their funny bone.

‘You’re looking well’, Ed lied as he followed Oswald into the mansion.

‘Better than last time you saw me I bet’, Oswald laughed, gesturing for Ed to follow him up a staircase.

‘Your letter said this place was big’, Ed said with an appreciative whistle.

‘Isn’t it? It would get awfully lonely if I didn’t have my family living here with me’.

Ed recalled Oswald mentioning these ‘family members’ in his letter. He hoped he wasn’t about to be sidelined into a meet and greet with some long lost cousin or something. He had important things to discuss with Oswald. He hid his dismay as they entered a drawing room and Oswald introduced him to an older man with the same delicate features and dark hair.

‘This is my father, Elijah Van Dahl. Father, this is Ed’.

‘Ed Nygma’, Ed said politely, extending a hand.

‘Your reputation precedes you’, Elijah said, his voice soft but his grip firm as they shook hands.

Ed noted the faint chemical smell, the swollen veins on Elijah’s neck and the paper like texture of his hand. As he stirred in his armchair, Ed heard a faint rasp in Elijah’s breath at the slight movement. He wondered if Oswald knew his father was sick.

‘All good I hope?’ Ed half joked.

‘I’m built from anything you don’t like’, Elijah recited, ‘You’re using me right now in fact, I am one but represent many, When attacked I’m easily cracked, I’m created in seconds but live forever  
And though you may not understand, I’ll help you do well but be careful my friend, Hurt me and you won’t withstand. What am I?’  
‘A reputation’, Ed answered automatically, unable to prevent a delighted smile spreading across his face.

‘He’s as clever as you say he is’, Elijah observed, ‘Oswald says you’re very close’.

‘I suppose we wer-are’, Ed hastily corrected, ‘Yes’.

‘He mentions you often’, Elijah continued, ‘It’s wonderful to finally meet you’.

‘Thank you Sir’, Ed said, at a loss at how to deal with so many positive words all at once.

‘Please, there’s no need to be so formal’, Elijah said, holding up a hand, ‘You’re Oswald’s partner after all’.

‘Partner?’ Ed asked, too shocked to think of a rebuttal.

‘In crime!’ Oswald added cheerily, cheeks blushing bright scarlet, ‘Right Ed?’

‘R-right. Uh, may I use the bathroom please? It was a longer drive than I thought’.

‘Take your pick!’ Oswald said, practically shooing Ed out of the room, ‘Closest one’s down the hall’.

**

‘Father, you are incorrigible’, Oswald chided once he was sure Ed was safely locked away in the nearest bathroom.

‘He’s very handsome’, Elijah said, ignoring Oswald’s disapproving look, ‘His build would be perfect for the new suit I was talking to you about’.

‘The green one?’, Oswald asked, imagining Ed wearing it, ‘Don’t you think it’s a little bright?’

‘It would be a pleasing contrast to those eyes he has. It’s remarkable how bright they are despite being so dark don’t you think?’

‘I, I hadn’t noticed’, Oswald said, rubbing his arm distractedly.

‘Perhaps he could wear it somewhere special’, Elijah smiled knowingly, ‘A wedding maybe?’

‘Oh! Oh no! I told you!’ Oswald babbled, ‘Ed and I aren’t…uh, what I mean is, we’re not like-‘

Elijah shook his head indulgently and Oswald’s protests trailed away.

‘Calm down Son. I didn’t mean to imply anything. Why don’t we have some nice tea?’

‘Oh, uh, I see. Yes!’ Oswald said, latching onto the escape route, ‘Tea. Good idea’.

**

‘Where’s Oswald?’ Ed asked.

‘Downstairs and down the corridor to the left’, Elijah said, twiddling a golden object between his fingers, ‘I believe he’s making tea for us’.

‘There’s no need. I’m not staying’.

‘Such a shame. I had hoped to speak to you for a while longer’.

‘About what?’

‘Oswald told me about how you saved his life when you found him in the woods. It was very lucky you happened upon him when you did. You will always have my eternal gratitude for that. Especially since most people would have walked the other way rather than help a known criminal and murderer’.

‘I’m not most people’, Ed replied.

‘Gertrud, Oswald’s mother, didn’t care very much what people thought of her either’, Elijah chuckled, ‘Every time I worried about my parents finding out about how close we were, she would toss her head and say they could order her what to cook but not who she could love’.

He held out the object he had been playing with. Ed saw it was a black and white picture of Oswald’s mother in a small oval frame, young and laughing. 

‘Not a day goes by that I don’t miss her’, Elijah said sadly, ‘Or regret not going after her’.

The connotations of Elijah’s words were not lost on Ed.

‘You must have loved her very much’, he said.

‘I did. She was very special. It’s how I know it would take a very special person to win Oswald’s…respect like you have. You’re welcome in this house anytime’.

‘Thank you’, Ed said, genuinely touched by Elijah’s gratitude and openness.

Nobody had ever accepted him so readily before. It made him uneasy as he felt sad longing settle into his chest.

As Ed was about to pass through the doorway, he heard Elijah’s soft voice behind him. He seemed to be addressing the picture of Oswald’s mother.

‘I’m so glad our son has someone looking after him. He’s been through so much. Too much’.

‘You don’t know the half of it’, Ed thought and resumed his journey, taken aback by the strength of sympathy welling up inside him.  
Ed was well acquainted with death and his senses told him Elijah didn’t have long left. Oswald truly was beloved by Fate to have reconnected with his father before it was too late. 

Ed was reflecting on how it was also Fate that had flung he and Oswald together when he realised someone was standing on the stairs. 

A stern looking woman was frowning up at him, leaning on the bannister in feigned idleness. Ed shamefully recognised the pose, having often employed it himself: she was pretending not to have been eavesdropping. 

‘Afternoon’, Ed said politely as he descended the stairs, ‘Edward Nygma’.

‘Grace Van Dahl’, she said haughtily.

‘Would you mind pointing me in the direction of the kitchen?’

‘He is not in the kitchen’, Grace said, pressing her back against the bannister despite the fact there was plenty of room for Ed to pass her without contact, ‘He’s in the larder preparing tea. Will you be staying long?’

‘I don’t plan to’, Ed responded coolly, ‘Excuse me’.

Grace spoke again as he stepped off the last stair. Her voice was loud enough to echo around the cavernous hall.

‘What exactly is your relationship with The Penguin?’

Ed realised she had done it on purpose to wrong foot him. And maybe ensure an unwitting Oswald would hear.

‘I’m Oswald’s friend’, Ed responded simply.

‘Just his friend?’ Grace smirked unpleasantly, eyes darting pointedly to Ed’s crotch.

Ed refused to give her the satisfaction of the flustered embarrassment she was obviously expecting. 

‘Does it matter?’ Ed asked, knuckles whitening as he gripped the bannister.

‘No need to get defensive dear’, Grace said with a laugh like breaking glass, ‘I’m just curious. I wasn’t aware Oswald had any friends. When Elijah found him, he was skulking about in a graveyard doing God knows what’.

She wrinkled her nose and waved a dismissive hand. 

‘He was visiting his mother’, Ed said, vexed by Grace’s deliberately obtuse demeanour, ‘Obviously’.

‘Ah yes, of course’, she breathed disdainfully, ‘Such a dreary, overcrowded little place. I quite forgot she was buried there’.

‘Your husband didn’t’, Ed responded with a frosty smile, ‘Excuse me Ma’am’.

He didn’t wait for a response though he did hear what sounded like angry steam escaping as Grace’s nostrils flared.

**

‘So, what’s the plan?’ Ed asked as he entered the kitchen.

‘The plan is either strawberry or chocolate but I can’t decide which one. What do you think?’

Oswald indicated two separate medium sized cakes: one dark chocolate with cherries on top and a sponge cake lined with buttercream and strawberries. They sat on porcelain plates beside a silver tray containing three expensive looking teacups and matching saucers.

‘Not the cake!’ Ed said, ‘The plan’.

‘What plan?’ Oswald asked, bewildered, ‘If Grace asked you to ask me about dinner, I haven’t decided what to make yet I’m afraid’.

Ed didn’t know what to say.  
He had hoped Oswald would have recovered some sense of self by now: that whatever torture Arkham had inflicted on him would have faded. That this ‘happy families’ routine was just a ruse: a smokescreen to help his machinations to retake Gotham.  
But no. Here he was: in a starched white apron, fussing over cream cake with that awful, dullness in his eyes. 

‘Chocolate’, Ed sighed.

‘It’s really nice of you to come out to visit me’, Oswald said, beginning to cut the chocolate cake into slices.

‘I wanted to make sure you were alright’, Ed said, swallowing hard, ‘And…I wanted to apologise’.

Oswald’s cowed personality didn’t make the words any easier to say but at least it had drastically reduced the risk of Oswald trying to kill him. Ed didn’t know if he should feel grateful or not. The guilt at banishing Oswald from his apartment upon his release from Arkham was the real reason for his visit. Oswald’s invitation to the mansion had simply been a convenient excuse to turn up and finally try to expunge the shame in his system. Ed knew guilt was a useless emotion. That he had done what he had to do. But every night since he hadn’t been sleeping well, the image of his door slamming behind Oswald seemingly burned into his eyelids on a continuous loop.

‘I appreciate it Ed but you don’t have to’, Oswald said easily, ‘It didn’t bother me’.

‘Really?’ Ed asked, unable to keep a sarcastic edge from the question.

Oswald seemed not to notice.

‘It’s strange to say but throwing me out of your apartment was the best thing that could’ve happened to me. If you hadn’t I wouldn’t have met my father. It’s been like a fairytale’.

‘Oh yes’, Ed said, counting on his fingers, ‘Evil stepmother, no doubt equally unpleasant step siblings and you banished to the dark depths of a house to fetch the tea. Very fairytale’.

‘I suppose you’re the prince on the white charger then?’ Oswald laughed, ‘I’ve missed your jokes Ed’.

‘Are you saying you sent the letter just because you missed me?’

‘Of course! Pass me the sugar please? I also wanted to thank you for bringing my mother flowers’.

‘I promised, didn’t I?’ Ed said, passing the sugar.

‘And I’m so relieved you’ve given up those awful ideas about Jim Gordon’, Oswald said, shaking his head patronisingly.

‘Did you tell anyone about them?’ Ed asked in a deliberately neutral voice.

‘Why would I?’ Oswald shrugged, ‘I knew someone as smart as you would see sense eventually’.

‘What if I hadn’t?’ Ed challenged, his patience with the ‘new and improved’ Oswald wearing thin, ‘You’re seriously okay with that man strutting around the GCPD after doing this to you?!’

Oswald thought for a moment while Ed’s fingers drummed on the counter.

‘I didn’t know it at the time but Jim was doing me a favour leaving me in Arkham’, Oswald said, eye twitching slightly, ‘If it wasn’t for him I would still be crazy’.

‘And yourself’.

‘Don’t be silly, I’m still me Ed’, Oswald said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

‘Then why do you let that hag walk all over you?’ Ed challenged.

‘You mean Grace? She’s just a little highly strung is all’.

‘You must know what she thinks of your mother’.

‘It’s only natural she feels some resentment’, Oswald said in that reasonable tone that utterly infuriated Ed, ‘She loves my father very much and it must be hard for her to-‘

‘Oh, for the love of-!’ Ed gave a wordless snarl and shouted, ‘Wake up Oswald! She loves your father’s money! Not him! I’ll forgive him not figuring it out: he’s obviously so dosed up on painkillers he doesn’t know which way is up but even with half your brain scooped out you must see she’s just biding her time until the inevitable!’

‘Ed! How can you say that?’ Oswald asked, aghast, ‘These people took me into their home and-‘

‘Your father’s home! Which makes it your home! They’re the squatters not you!’

‘That’s enough!’

‘It’s nowhere near enough! How long until she decides you’re in the way?’

‘We’re family!’

‘You’re a liability!’

‘Is that how you felt when you threw me out?!’ Oswald snapped, slamming the sugar bowl down.

As sugar scattered across the counter from the impact, Ed felt a surge of triumph at the angry flash in Oswald’s eyes. But it was momentary. Oswald’s demeanour seemed to deflate, his eyes flashing fearfully before all traces of his anger vanished. To be replaced by a melancholy regret.

‘Oh my, I, I am so sorry’, Oswald said, ‘I don’t know why I said that’.

Ed slammed a fist down, making Oswald jump. Oswald’s passive demeanour only made Ed more desperate.

It reminded Ed of how he had once been: too scared to say what he really thought about anything and desperate to make others like him. Even though it had torn him into pieces every time he had done it, enduring the taunts, rationalising it as part and parcel of being 'one of the guys'. Ed was beginning to realise it wasn't just this lobotomised version of Oswald that he hated. 

‘You said it because you’re angry! Do you remember ‘angry’?!’ Ed yelled, feeling sickened with himself even as he resorted to spiteful jabs, ‘And if you’re asking ‘did I think you were a liability when you showed up at my door asking me to forget about everything we’d talked about and done together’?! The answer is ‘Yes’! Because you were a liability. Gordon felt the same when he left you to rot in Arkham for something he did! The difference is I felt bad about it! That’s why I’m really here: to save you from yourself!’

Ed inhaled deeply and brushed his hair back, trying to compose himself. He hadn’t meant to unload so much. To expose his guilt so openly.

‘You’re saying these things because you think I need saving?’ Oswald asked quietly.

‘I’m saying these things because I want some kind of reaction!’ Ed cried, pleading creeping into his voice, ‘Get mad! Threaten me! Anything!’

‘If I’m upsetting you so much, maybe you should just leave!’ Oswald said, obviously baffled at what Ed was asking of him.

In the background the kettle began to squeal, steam screaming into the air.

‘Not until I see you! The real you! Please, show me you’re still in there!’ Ed demanded, grabbing Oswald’s shoulders as if to shake him.

Oswald’s lip quivered and he seemed about to say something when they were interrupted.

‘Trouble in paradise my dears?’ came a silken, poisonous voice.

Grace was leaning against the doorway, a satisfied curl to her lip and an intrigued glint in her eye.  
Ed let go of Oswald immediately, unwilling to give the witch any ammunition to use against either of them.

‘No’, Oswald said, removing the kettle from the heat to silence the shrill hissing.

‘Yes’, Ed said simultaneously.

‘No’, Oswald reiterated pointedly, gaze falling to the floor, ‘Ed was just leaving’.

‘Such a shame’, Grace said smiling, holding up an enamelled, expensive looking pillbox, ‘Elijah’s latest batch arrived. Take it to him before you show your…friend out’.

She slid it along the counter and strode out, humming to herself.  
Oswald once more busied himself with the trays: as if he could sweep away the heavy atmosphere if he just ignored it.

‘The Oswald I knew would never have let anyone speak to him like that without consequence’, Ed said quietly, ‘He would have ripped out her tongue and used it to clean his shoes’.

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you’, Oswald sighed heavily, ‘I don’t understand. How could you accept me when I was a monster and hate me now I’m better? I thought we were friends’.

He took two pristine pills from the box and placed them carefully on the tray.

‘I don’t hate you! And we are friends!’ Ed cried, exasperated, ‘I…I just want to help you’.

‘Then can you help me carry these trays before you go?’ Oswald asked with a reconciliatory smile.

‘Sure’, Ed conceded and reached for the tray, defeated.

As Ed took hold of the silver handles however, something strange caught his eye.

‘Um, Oswald, how good is your father’s sense of taste?’ 

‘Not very good. It’s why his tea is so strong’, Oswald said, indicating the dark brown liquid in the teacup, ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because this isn’t real medicine. Look. No manufacturer mark or date and I bet you’ve never seen any packaging’.

‘What are you saying?’

‘I thought not. At best these are placebo pills, at worst breath mints’.

He popped one in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully despite Oswald crying out.

‘With a touch of menthol’, Ed said, identifying the taste on his tongue.

After a momentary hesitation, Oswald accepted the pill Ed was offering him. 

‘I-I don’t understand’, Oswald said, his tongue obviously concurring with Ed’s assessment.

‘Who supplies these pills?’ Ed asked, ‘Which pharmacy? Which doctor?’

‘Grace always…’

Oswald trailed off. Ed watched his face contort: dozens of expressions racing after each other as his eyes bulged, awful memories rising from the depths of his rewired brain.  
Oswald lunged for the sink and was violently ill. Ed, impervious to nausea thanks to a long career in forensics, rubbed his back and offered him a piece of kitchen roll to wipe away the sour spittle. Oswald accepted it then dropped it into the sink. Oswald hunched over the counter, groaning as if in pain, occasional spasms wracking his body akin to silent sobs. His hands curled into fists which beat at the hard surface and himself. Then his arms contracted as Oswald hugged his own body like an inconsolable child. He mumbled incoherent words through gritted teeth, tears streaming down his face.

‘Oswald, just breathe’, Ed said, unsure how to help, ‘You’re alright’.

Oswald’s shaking intensified and Ed realised he was laughing. Oswald straightened and ran a hand through his hair. Then another. Then he was using his fingers to wrench his hair, forcing it up into the spiked style Ed was so familiar with.  
Oswald wiped away his tears and stood tall. All of a sudden, he seemed to be the personification of utter detachment.  
Glancing at himself in the toaster reflection and nodding approvingly, Oswald then unscrewed a nearby bottle of wine and chugged half of it, red dribbling down his chin. He offered Ed a sip as he wiped his face with the back of his hand. Ed politely declined, excited at what he was witnessing and unwilling to interfere with Oswald’s ‘re-emergence’.

‘No. I am not alright’, Oswald said quietly, voice hoarse, ‘Ed, do you still want to help me?’

‘Always’, Ed said eagerly, thrilled to hear the real Oswald’s voice once more.

Oswald swallowed the rest of the wine in a long, satisfying series of gulps, threw the empty bottle in the trash, turned the dial on the oven and started sharpening a lethal looking carving knife.

‘Call my…’siblings’ will you?’ Oswald said, his cold eyes reflected in the metallic surface as he admired the edge, ‘I think I’ve just decided what to do about dinner’.

Heart pounding with excitement, Ed turned to carry out the orders but was stopped in his tracks when Oswald spoke again.

‘Oh. And Ed?’

Ed spun on his heel just in time to receive a hefty dollop of the chocolate cake to the face. As he spluttered and removed his glasses, Oswald added a generous portion of icing sugar to the mix. Ed coughed and licked his lips even as he blinked in surprise.

‘Now we’re even’, Oswald said, a curl at the corner of his lips, ‘I don’t have tar or feathers to hand but I think you get the idea’.

Ed laughed, relief and amusement flooding his system despite the mix covering his face. As punishments went, he knew Oswald could think of far worse.

‘Welcome back Mr Penguin’, Ed said, licking his finger clean as he reached for the towel Oswald was offering.

‘Good to be back’, Oswald smirked.


End file.
